Tag Archives: reality

These Friends Ain’t Loyal

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Warning: Tantrum time.

Growing up. my family moved every three to four years. During my childhood, I made no lasting friendships. It wasn’t until social media evolved (high school/ college) that I was able to keep in touch with the friends I’ve made over the years. And even then, I consider only a small handful of those people as my “close” friends (aka friends who know me beyond my Facebook statuses and Instagram pictures).

At nineteen, I moved to Michigan. This was my first major independent move as an adult. And I lived in Michigan for seven years, building (what I thought were) lasting friendships. Then, last summer, I moved to Houston.

I’d never revisited a previous home before and so I was really excited to visit Michigan this last December and see all my friends again.

My trip was for only five days and I felt that I wouldn’t have enough time to see everyone I loved.

By the third day, however, it dawned on me: I have very few Real Friends (right now I can count them on one hand if half the fingers were cut off). Those I thought were my friends really aren’t (I’ll now refer to them as my Fake Friends). And many that I viewed as my “friends” because they were (originally) friends of my Real Friends, are more friends to me than my Fake Friends. These Friends of (my Real) Friends came out and spent time with me, while not a single Fake Friend contacted me and if I contacted them, they had an excuse for not being able to see me (unless they were out of town that is).

As an adult, I’ve developed into the kind of friend who will go out of my way for a friend. I will do almost anything to preserve a relationship with those I love and will be there for them whenever they need me. That is what I consider a Loyal Friend.

Apparently, Loyal Friends are few and far between. I am deeply hurt by every person I thought of as a friend who hasn’t even reached out to me. I’ve been gone for almost five months, and am in town for five days (including the weekend) and I’ve publicly announced my arrival and sent group texts out and so far the only friends who came out to see me were (besides my half a handful of Real Friends) Friends of Friends.

The Tally: I have a handful of Real Friendships, numerous Friends-of-Real-Friends Friendships and even more Fake Friends than I can count.

The Lesson: Don’t waste your energy on Fake Friends. If they’re real they’ll be there. I’m going to focus on my well being and health and stop bending backwards for people who disappear when it’s not convenient for them. Friendship is a mutual meeting of “half-way”. I’ll continue to meet my Real Friends half-way and leave behind the others.

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Rabbit Fever

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Rabbit Fever

I had just dropped off kenn at his university and headed back home. When I walked into our empty and silent apartment I noticed his backpack on the floor and in one pocket his phone was ringing.

Oh no, he forgot his phone again. I grabbed it. Answered and it was kenn. The reception wasn’t good- as if he was in a basement and so I collected my wallet, keys and my cell phone and ran to my car.

I am walking up the steps and noticed a couple of actors talking. They were still in their costumes. They were reminiscing about how they started working at this theatre- when they were young and full of life. I looked closely as I approached. The one man was older, aging terribly with greying hair and sallow cheeks. The other was also older but his dark skin was smooth and his age could only be seen in his salt and pepper hair and his deep wise eyes.

I passed them and entered the building. Suddenly I dropped my wallet and keys and went to grab them. But the floor was wet and somehow they’d rolled into the bathroom. I didn’t have time for this. I went in search for Kenn.

I’m in the basement. The garage is open and suddenly a little white rabbit runs into the room. There’s a lady next to me. She looks at the starved rabbit and shakes her head. I notice the rabbit has a tattered pink collar. His fur is patchy and he’s breathing very heavily. He’s looking for food and seems on the verge of dying.

“I have to help him!” I yell to no one in particular.

The woman near me says something about letting the rabbit die since he was already so close.

I turn to the freezer and can only find a small ziplock bag of homemade bacon covered Popsicles. Some bacon has broken off and I grabbed those slowly feeding the rabbit. The bacon quickly thawed and he nibbled happily. His breathing is still heavy.

I realized the frost on the bacon was a good thing because it was hydrating him as well. He quickly finishes the small piece I gave him. I give him more. He nibbles as he wheezes. I look at him. He was once beautiful. If I can save him his fur will be silky and milky white. I could just see his sleek handsome healthy self. What family decided to let him go? Who thought he could survive on his own? And let him go with that tight thick collar around his neck? I think of my snake Seschet who escaped and wonder if she’s starving somewhere looking for food. I shake myself.

I reach up at the shelves above the rabbit looking for something better to feed him. I bump my jacket and somehow it falls to the ground. I keep searching for something better to feed the rabbit, but find nothing. When I look down I realize he’s mostly covered by my black leather jacket, laying down under the shelf, a piece of bacon still between his little jaws. His eyes are closed. His breathing is a little less heavy.

“Oh no!” I say as I reach down, “I’m so sorry!”

“It’s ok.” He replies, “I think I’m going to sleep now.”

Wait what? He talked? I don’t think he actually talked. I mean he had frozen bacon in his mouth. I think it was his eyes that told me.

So I got up and turned to go back upstairs to raid the fridge and find better food. What the hell do rabbits eat? I’m sure they don’t eat meat. Couldn’t they live on grass? But he’s dying so maybe not.

I bump into Kenn.

“I’ve been looking for you!”

“Hey babe! I need to find food.”

I rush past him. Up the stairs.

People are everywhere. I see bags and purses everywhere.

“Where’s my wallet?” I ask no one in particular. A lady responds, “Here it is!”

I look over to her. She’s next to a table
Covered with a Vera Bradley table-cover and sure enough my Vera Bradley wallet with the same pattern is barely discernible on the table. I grab it. And rush out. The actors are still talking. The camera crew is nearby waiting on the darker man to return to them so they can continue to film.

I’m in the kitchen. My mother is there.

“What’s the rush?” She asks.

I mumble something as I reach down into the bottom drawer of the fridge. Why are there three containers of chopped up hot peppers of all colors? I need green bell peppers or carrots. There is a tray of sliced bell peppers. I grab a handful and stand up. Turning to my mother.

I wake up. Realization washes over me like warm jello. There is no rabbit. I want to sleep more so that I can see what happens to the rabbit.

I cuddle up closer to Kenn and wake him just enough to say, “I saved a rabbit.” After a slight pause, “Now, I want a rabbit.”

He snores happily, oblivious to my sadness.